


she'll be somewhere safe (right here)

by sIngedwIngs



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Past Fic, Past Relationship(s), So much angst, i'm bitter, some substance abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sIngedwIngs/pseuds/sIngedwIngs
Summary: At some point, Alice knew, she would always run back to him.





	1. Afraid

"So, I heard Hal Cooper has a thing for you."

Alice slams the door of her locker so ferociously that it could be heard above the din of chatting teenagers all fighting to hear each other. She whirls around to face Forsythe Jones, an expression of irritation on her face.

"Since when is it your business, FP?" She asks icily, blue eyes narrowed. Every conversation with Alice Cooper was a battlefield, a battlefield which wasn't easy to navigate for most. Even the notorious Forsythe Jones had trouble talking with her.

"It's my business because he's a total dick."

"You know I don't listen to anyone else's opinions, FP."

"Yeah, I know Al."

He sighs and it breaks her heart. She can't even look at him right now, there are so many things about him that fascinate her. But she's not going into detail, not when there's a future waiting for her outside the doors of high school. Not when there's Hal, a nice, normal guy with a bright future and nothing haunting his easygoing smile.

She wants more, she feels guilty for wanting more. She wants FP but he wouldn't give up the Serpents for her. She's not enough for him. Tears prick her eyes and she takes in a deep breath before looking back at him. The hallway is nearly empty now, she should be at practice, she could be if she didn't drag this conversation out.

Should, could, _won't._

"I have a date with him."

His eyes harden, but he tries to play it off.

"Oh, when?" He wants to sound casual, wishes to be happy for her.

Wants, wishes, _needs._

Alice raises an eyebrow at him, clearly sceptical of his intentions. The hallway is empty now, she could tell him everything. Laugh with him about how nervous Hal was, make ridiculous jokes about the jocks. Go find a quiet place to hide together, let the world melt away. What she wants to do is talk with him like nothing has changed, what she wants to do is wrap her arms around him and never let go. But he's waiting, expectant. 

"Tonight." It's final, it's brutal. But casual. She almost wants to reward herself for her delivery. Cold and methodical. Cauterise the wound before it gets infected. But when she looks back at him, she knows that he is far from fine.

"I'll meet you at Pop's at 9?" She offers with a small smile.

FP nods mutely, but there's a beginning of a smile on his face.

Her heart soars and it's such a cliche as she turns and heads for the gym. But she's got a good feeling about tonight.

 

* * *

 

As always, she can rely on FPs impeccable foresight.

He shows up at the right time, too. Alice wonders if he can read minds sometimes. Nevertheless, he's waiting outside the diner. It's only just getting dark, summer is coming on fast and with it, comes the future. New and unfamiliar. (And terrifying.)

They slide into a booth and order milkshakes, frothy and bright in colour. The two smile and joke across the table. It's almost like the good old days.

_Almost._

"I have a summer job here." She tells him casually, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. She's preparing for the oncoming future whereas FP is stubbornly sticking his head in the sand. He'll survive somehow. His foresight of bringing books with him is a telltale sign of that. Despite what everyone thinks, FP is smart.

"Free milkshakes for me then?" He jokes playfully, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He's thinking about the future too. His future. Bleak and dark, but the path is clear. A low paid job and the Southside Serpents, a far cry from Alice's career in journalism.

Oh yeah, he knows about that too. He's read her work, she's always so nervous when he does. But he appreciates the trust she has in him in order to let him read her drafted works. He trusts her too, trusts her to know what's best for herself. He would never make her sacrifice her dreams in order to be with him. Hal is the safe bet, the reliable one. Alice can carve out a future with him. But thinking like this just makes his chest ache, he smiles anyway.

"You're gonna make a hell of a writer one day, Al." He confesses, sobering up the conversation with one quiet statement. It's silent in the diner when she takes his hand under the table and squeezes it. Because they may not be together, but they both want to be.

 

* * *

 

 

Walking Alice home in the sleepy town of Riverdale was one of the most peaceful moments of his life.

Just knowing that she'll be safe is therapeutic for him.

The Southside isn't the nicest place to be after dark, but they've both grown up here. They know how to handle themselves should they run into trouble. But they won't. Not if Forsythe Jones II has anything to do or say about it.

And of course, Alice would just decide to bring it up.

"Remember when everybody used to call you Forsythe?" She teases, eyes shimmering in the dark.

"People still call me Forsythe, Al. What's your point?" He grunts down at her, she has to be one of the shortest cheerleaders he's ever met. To be fair, he hasn't met many cheerleaders in his lifetime; most of them tend to annoy him.

"You never liked it when I called you Forsythe." The name just rolls off her tongue and he doesn't mind too much.

With a jolt, he realises that they're right outside her house, "maybe I just don't like being second for everything." He's not necessarily talking about his own name anymore, the implication is there. He doesn't look at Alice.

He knows that comment hurt her because there's a little choking sound she makes before she flees to her door. FP lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he turns to walk to his own house.

"Don't do anything stupid, be safe. Forsythe." Her watery voice carries across the street.

He doesn't stop, doesn't turn around. But he's sure he can hear both of their hearts shattering like glass in the silence of the night.


	2. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when she hurts him, FP finds himself inexplicably drawn back to Alice Smith.

Walking down the dark streets of Riverdale had never been this lonely before, FP Jones realises with a jolt. It's almost midnight, Alice has been home for nearly an hour now. Probably planning outfits and thinking about Hal. He unconsciously balls his hands into fists. He's so desperately lonely that it makes him exhausted, he thought he could have a chance at a better life.

With Alice.

But she'd never called him Forsythe before. It hurts and he hates himself for letting it hurt in such a way. He hates himself for a number of reasons, namely to do with substance abuse, but he could never hate Alice. Ever.

He lights a cigarette without even realising it. Breathes in a lungful of smoke, watches the tendrils float away in the darkness. It's almost ironic, really. That both he and Alice promised to quit when they transferred to Riverdale high, that neither of them could keep their promises. The lonely feeling resumes its relentless ache. Numbed only by the continuous drag of the cigarette. He stops under a streetlight, doesn't check the time. It could've been hours or minutes since he walked away from Alice Smith, not that it matters.

His hands shake as he finishes his emergency cigarette. He'll get some tomorrow, his dad will have some. Maybe he can skive off for a few hours, maybe he won't show up at all. Alice may not talk to him, which is heartbreaking to think about. So he doesn't think about it, he lets himself into his house, shuffles up the stairs as quietly as he can. When he opens his bedroom door, a low, quiet bark greets him.

Bandit, an elderly basset hound, eyes FP from his spot on the floor. Wags his tail half-heartedly, then goes back to sleep. The window is open, a slight breeze drifting in from the darkness. Unsurprisingly, it's cold in his room. Which, if he's honest, is his own fault for leaving it open earlier that morning before he went to school.

Despite his bad mood, FP smiles. Instead of checking the clock on the wall, FP throws himself into his bed. Not even bothering to shed his Serpents jacket or remove his shoes, he deliberately leaves them on. Favouring convenience over comfort. He's had to do that a few times before. Tonight and the rest of his life will be no different. His heart aches with regret, he shouldn't of said those things to her. He was being far too harsh, she just wants the best for herself.

Maybe he just didn't realise he was this tired. Exhausted is a better word for it. But as soon as he buries his head in his pillow, his eyelids get heavier and heavier until he finally drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Riverdale high is one of the worst places to be lonely.

It's so different from Southside High, all bright colours and posters. Fresh paint, clean. Adored by the students. Which is exactly why FP hates it so much. It seems fake, like some sort of mockery of what the traditional American school should look like. Even in the bathrooms, where insults should be scrawled on the stalls, there's nothing. Just a blank, grey slate. Depressing, really. Like the mark of students before can be wiped away so easily. As if they never existed.

The current students are the worst, though. Forced smiles and fake laughter, shoes that cost more than his entire wardrobe. Clifford Blossom sneering over at him whenever he happened to pass his locker. The Serpents jacket doesn't belong here. FP Jones doesn't belong here. So why is he here?

It's certainly not for the classes, or the teachers, or the _joy_ of being around his fellow students. It's for Alice. Always has been, always will be. Anyway, it's not like he actually shows up to class. He just mopes around in the hallways for hours on end. Itching to pull out a cigarette and light it.

Not that he would dare, of course. He's not that stupid. FP Jones II is pretty damn smart in his own right. He knows there's an increased chance of being caught smoking while classes are going. The teachers are weirdly paranoid about it. Probably to protect their own reputations. To protect Riverdale High.

As the bell rings to signal the end of the day, FP feels the eyes of none other than Fred Andrews boring into the back of his head. Their lockers are next to each other, so there's no surprise that Fred has shown up. Usually, they take the liberty of ignoring each other. But apparently, today is not 'usually.'

Fred clears his throat before he starts, "I didn't see Alice Smith today," he comments casually, leaning on his locker and staring up at FP. An accusatory tone leaks into his voice, almost as if he's daring FP to try to defend himself. Fred isn't his enemy, but they aren't friends either. But Fred isn't the type to get manipulated into getting the schools gossip. He's probably just worried about Alice, or he's worried about his girlfriends' cheerleaders not showing up to practice.

"Haven't seen her all day," FP says gruffly, opting to share a mutually worried look with Fred as several members of the River Vixens walk past. Clearly late for practice. FP doesn't bother to ask any of them if they've seen Alice; there's a very real chance they'll ignore him or won't answer. He has no time for that.

As he closes his locker with care, (he doesn't want another teacher to give him a lecture,) he notices Alice at the end of the hallway. Clearly, she's just left practice, she must be upset. Fred isn't looking her way as she flees through the main doors. They don't shut quietly, but Fred doesn't bother looking that way as he puts on hand on FPs shoulder.

"Look, man. I know that you both..." He trails off, doesn't want to say the rest of the sentence. Fred Andrews is smart because he knows when not to say comments like that. He's also smart because he knows that making comments like that will get him punched.

FP looks at Fred, a small smile. "Yeah, I know, Andrews. Get off my back, would ya?" It's the first time they've ever been friendly to each other. Must pay off though, because Fred grins back at him as he walks towards the main hall.

"Look after her, FP. You're a good guy!"

That's all the encouragement he needs for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Alice Smiths' problems keep ruining her life.

These problems aren't generic math problems that can be solved easily. These problems could potentially kill her if she doesn't find a way to solve them.

So, there she is. Sitting on the school steps with a cigarette grasped in one hand, a notebook in the other. Every time she takes in a lungful of smoke her hands shake less and less until the tension eases away. Ironic how she promised FP she would quit with him, yet here she is, breaking promises, skipping out on practice and arguing with Hal twice in the same day.

The weather seemed to reflect her mood. The usually blue sky had been enveloped by grey clouds stretching across the sky like a soft, grey blanket. Rain drizzled from the clouds miserably as the wind helped the branches on the trees sway back and forth.

Her first problem is the need to quit smoking, easier said than done. Her second problem is dissociating herself with the Southside Serpents, which, again, is easier said than done.

Her third problem is currently sitting next to her in the form of Forsythe Jones II. Who just happens to be the cause of both her first and second problems. He's sat there, silent. Waiting for her to be the one who talks first. He won't, not after last night.

The rain grows heavier, pattering down on the concrete of the steps. The wind is more insistent, making Alice shiver in discomfort. Like a reflex, FP gives her his Serpents jacket. Throws his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into a hug. She drops the cigarette, nobody will ever think the newest star of the River Vixens could possibly pursue a such a degrading habit like smoking. There'll be a few who actually question her, like Mary or Hermione. But other than the two resident mean girls, nobody will ever think of Alice Smith that way.

Predictably, Alice breaks the silence over the pouring rain. They're both soaked to the bone, Alice's long, blonde hair plastered to her head, eyes shining with tears. "I'm sorry, FP." Moments of silence stretch into minutes, watching the weather worsen. Feeling the effects of mother nature's wrath first hand.

"I know, Al." FP breathes.

She sits there in his Serpents jacket and her River Vixens uniform. Knowing that she can't have both of these worlds, she cannot be both Southside and Northside. Incredibly ironic that she finds herself at the crossroads when there's nothing luring her away from the Southside.

And FP sits there in the clothes he wore yesterday. Knowing that Alice won't make the sacrifice for him, even though he would for her. He would choose her a million times if he could. But he knows that Alice doesn't think like that. He knows his best friend better than she knows herself. He finds it especially ironic that the most chaotic moment of his life is also one of the most peaceful experiences that he's ever had.

If their promises about quitting smoking are anything to go by, they know they're both screwed. It just so happens that FP has two cigarettes from his dad. He feels guilty the moment he puts it to his lips like he's betraying Alice. Who looks back at him and he knows she has the same feelings.

With her head resting on his shoulder, Alice finds herself smiling. "You still want that free milkshake?" She asks him quietly, but she knows he's heard her because he chuckles. Exhales a cloud of smoke before he considers her offer.

"It's a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I wrote the second chapter! Honestly, I'm looking forward to working my way through this series and I'm going to try to write a chapter or a drabble per day.  
> If anyone has any requests/questions or they just want to write headcanons with me, check out my Tumblr: https://franks-kastle.tumblr.com/


	3. Indifference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time that things changed.
> 
> ANGSTY CHAPTER I'M SORRY.

His hands tremble, itching to pull a cigarette out. He's so stupid. The fact that his entire universe revolves around not only a disgusting, expensive drug habit but also a beautiful cheerleader who will never be his. Standing at the edge of Sweetwater river, he feels an odd sense of tranquillity. Something about the way the water moves makes this one of the most peaceful places in Riverdale.

It doesn't matter who he is. Southside or not, the river welcomes all.

It's not the first time he's thought about throwing himself in, maybe not an instant death. But what is an instant death? Those frightening five or ten seconds of life before one last puff of breath escapes your lips? Or is it an eternity condensed into a moment?

He finds himself sat on a rocky outcrop, the sky is still the same. Cloudless, beautiful. An odd contrast to his bitter mood. He's a little worried if he's being completely honest with himself; he's never had these kinds of thoughts before. They scare him a little, make him feel on edge when he's staring into one of Mother Natures most efficient killers.

Alice came to his window last night. He didn't have it open to feel the happiness radiating off her. He didn't necessarily care about the dances that were held at Riverdale High, but she sure as hell did. It was like her own life revolved around the sun, which just so happened to be Hal Cooper.

He'd done a stupid thing at the time.

He let her in.

She climbed through his window, elegantly swinging her legs over the windowsill. She hastily shrugged off her jacket and pulled off her boots. Sat cross-legged on his bed and began a full-length recount of how Hal had 'suggested' that they should go together. It had happened in Pops, she explained. Just as she was finishing her shift he had stopped by to pay for his milkshake, Hal had been wondering if she had plans for that night.

After the story was finished, he'd done another stupid thing.

Albeit, a stupidly calm thing.

"You should go, Al."

He saw the hurt swimming in her eyes before he delivered the crushing blow.

"Go, Alice."

"I don't understand you, FP!" She had wailed, but by then, he was already crossing the room, flinging his bedroom door open and fleeing. He ran from his own home, his father, his best friend, his life. He ran to the river and that's when he stopped.

FP didn't cry. Not when his father left him alone for three days in darkness, not when he had nightmares, not when his best friend irrevocably crushed his fragile heart with a single blow. He would endure, he would not cry. He would not bend to weakness like his father.

He made for an odd figure, Southside Serpent jacket thrown haphazardly to the side, unlit cigarette between his lips, shaking as the tears rolled down his cheek on a perfectly ordinary Sunday afternoon, in the sleepy little town of Riverdale.

 

* * *

 

 

It's dark when he returns home. It's dark and it's a Tuesday night. It's dark and it's a Tuesday night and he feels like the only human being alive. When he thought about the future, he thought about the Serpents. He thought about family and duty to his people. He thought about warm fires with close friends and traditionality.

Alice was so different from him.

When she thought of the future, she thought about a big city, a lavish apartment, her name in the New York Times. Or, she thought about being hidden away in some isolated log cabin, writing books, walking a dog, in her mind the dog was always a golden retriever, named Adonis to show how educated and cultural she was. She thought about a long and successful career, being a household name with books lining families shelves. She thought about a cosy fireplace and warmth.

So different from what he had always pictured.

She's just starting to feel cold when he shows up at his front door. She's sitting on the sidewalk, shivering under the cold kiss of the summer breeze. But she stares him down as he walks towards her, past her. He's at the front door, now. Hasn't said a word. She pulls herself to her feet.

"You can't keep doing this, FP," her voice is shaking like a leaf, "I won't let you do this." Her voice dies abruptly when he opens the door, then slams it.

She didn't turn, didn't run. She stayed, stayed for at least an hour. Waiting for him to invite her in, to apologise, to promise to fix things. Her makeup is smudged due to the tears rolling down her cheeks, she cries loudly. Unapologetically.

He has broken her heart again.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time she sees him, they're in Pops.

Hal just left, the promise of a date with his charming smile and wink. She's finishing up her afternoon shift. It's an early Saturday morning, nearly two weeks after the incident at his home. Nearly two painful weeks of not speaking to him. Nearly two painful weeks of wanting to share jokes and silly stories with her best friend.

Nearly two weeks.

He's come here to talk to her, she knows that much. Usually, he avoids this place. He knows he doesn't belong here, so he avoids it. Common sense, right?

FP loiters in their usual booth for about ten minutes before she finally works up the courage to go talk to him.

"What do you want?" She asks him, adopting the bored tone of voice most of the waitresses have. She doesn't really want to look him in the eye, she's scared she might cry. Or do something completely irrational and stupid. The latter is much more likely when it comes to Alice.

"Milkshake." He grunts and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at him. He's so predictable that it's almost funny, but she's in no mood to laugh. She cocks her hip and notes it down as if he is the source of all of her problems. Which, for the most part, he is.

She finishes scribbling down the word 'milkshake' and pauses before she walks away. "Anything else?" Her voice breaks hopefully and she inwardly curses herself for being such a ridiculously predictable person. As if she's pining over her best friend!

His shoulders tense and she sees him pull his jacket over his shoulders, like some sort of gangster comfort blanket. He shakes his head, a clear 'no' and Alice forces herself to choke back the quiet sob in her throat as she storms back to the counter.

She's never hated the efficiency at Pops this much before.

Alice is back at his table within two minutes, a strawberry milkshake in hand. She puts it down, a little too aggressively, then huffs. Se has to fight the urge to run back to the counter and hide there until FP leaves.

But he does leave, he leaves after ten minutes. Not long, really. He leaves his money on the table.

She doesn't see him leave, she just goes to collect the cup and the money when she sees that his booth is vacant.

There's a note there, she realises. A pink scrap of paper pinned to the table by his cup. She pockets the money, along with her fairly generous tip. Retrieves the note and cup from the table and moves back towards the counter. Suddenly flushed.

After placing the cup in the sink, she opens the carefully folded note with shaky hands. Heart in mouth, her eyes skim over the words that are scribbled in the familiar scrawl of FP Jones. She leans against a nearby counter, fully aware that she looks like a lovesick fool as she holds the note against her chest. She unties her apron and hangs it up. She skips out the front door without a care in the world.

She steps into the sunlight, her eyes rereading the note to check that it's real. Then she smiles again, if it's possible, wider this time.

 

_'Forgive me? I have a surprise for you tomorrow, Sweetwater River sound good?_

_-Forsythe.'_

 

The world seems a little bit brighter now.

 


	4. Clarity

Her heart soars and her mouth is dry, she's almost certain that he can hear her heartbeat thudding in her chest. It's so quiet, the only sounds being the rushing river and the birds harmonising pleasantly in the background. She hasn't quite made it to the picnic spot yet, but she knows exactly where it is.

They've been there before, an age ago. It was a time when they were young and carefree, when they weren't plagued with the promise of a terrifying future. It was a time when they were happier, it was a time when things were simpler than they are now.

But, as Alice looks back on it, everything was simpler back then. She's wearing a summer dress, it's surprisingly hot. Invisible clouds of warmth permeate the air, it's uncomfortable and humid. But it's one of the first visible signs of summer and that's all that Alice has wanted for a long time. Well, it's not the only thing she's wanted. Not that it matters now.

She clutches the note in one hand, it's crumpled, she's folded and unfolded it so many times. She's held it to her chest and squealed in happiness too often. She's a little too attached to the note, not like that's a bad thing, but it's just a little odd for her.

As the trees thin out and the clearing comes into view, Alice spots him. He's traded in his usual dark ensemble for a plain black t-shirt and jeans, he must be incredibly warm, but he looks rather unaffected as he searches through the picnic basket with increasing urgency. He must've looked at the time and realised she was arriving soon. Alice wants to laugh at his desperation to impress her, but her nerves are too unsettled for anything like that.

She doesn't even know why she's so nervous, it's not like this picnic is deciding her future. Maybe she knows that this is why she's nervous, the future. She knows that they don't fit into each others futures, he knows it too. He's just not ready to face it.

He spots her from the corner of his eye, smiles. Her fears are washed away with the tide of the river, she grins back at him. Takes his extended hand and settles down on the picnic blanket, they've never done things like this before. But now is a good time to start. He pours her a glass of lemonade with a wink in her direction and she flushes shyly.

She feels oddly elated, as if this is the place she belongs in. If Heaven existed, then this was surely it; the feeling of peace washed over her like a comforting wave.

She realises it is the first time she had felt truly relaxed in months. They don't speak, they just bask in the suns rays that peak through the tree branches. They snack on miniature cakes, Alice has no idea that FP made them, and they drink lemonade out of fancy glasses.

They exchange soft smiles and shy looks, it's as if the events of the past few weeks haven't occurred. They slot back together comfortably, but something is clearly different now. Something has changed, the way they look at each other has changed. Because she is his sun, and he is her moon.

 

* * *

 

 

They stay at the edge of the river until midnight.

It's cold, the warmth of the summer has slipped away in favour of a cold, cloudless night. She giggles as she holds his hand, his jacket around her shoulders.

He points out the stars to her, explains the constellations carefully. She marvels at his knowledge of the myths and legends behind each and every star. He pulls her close when she shivers, they walk along the middle of the road, hand in hand. Clouds of breath escaping their mouths, floating through the air until out of sight. Murky street lamps guide their footsteps home, guide them until they reach her house.

She holds his hand a little longer, pulls the moment in. Draws it out, makes it last for as long as she can. She doesn't want to let him go, she doesn't want to let anything go.

The future is frightening, full of unexpected surprises and events that will shape and change her. She wants to change, she wants to stay the same. The world is changing, she has no place here if she doesn't change with it.

The indecision must be clearly written on her face, because FP silently squeezes her hand in a comforting manner. He's silent, he knows that she needs a few moments to gather herself.

She sighs, straightens her dress and slips the Southside Serpent jacket from her shoulders and hands it to FP.

Then he does something unexpected.

He presses his lips to hers and throws the jacket to the ground, its brief, its quick. But the message is there.

She reciprocates the message by pulling him in for a longer kiss. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as she pulls him down for his height. Damn the consequences, damn it all to hell.

She has him for now.

That's all she wants.

The fallen jacket lays crumpled in the street as the two teenagers stare at each other in wonder as they ponder the probability of the universe making best friends into romantic soulmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and fluffy chapter brought to you with the help of Ed Sheeran!

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based off "Single" by the Neighbourhood.
> 
> who knows maybe I'll write a second chapter for this if people like it.
> 
> Oh and this isn't beta read either so that's why it's so bad I'm very sorry. This came out of nowhere.


End file.
